Ashley's Angels
by IheartSON
Summary: whoring made professional
1. Prologue

**Ashley's Angels**

**Prologue  
**

Ashley was never very good at hiding her feelings. So when she decided that she didn't like Marcus Gold everyone else knew she didn't like Marcus Gold, including the lawyer himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not interested in selling right now. Tell Jack it's nothing personal that's just the way it is," she said flipping over a chair and placing it on the ground then proceeding to the next chair.

"Is there anything Mr. Thomas can do to make you interested? It's already a very nice offer Ms. Davies," the lawyer prodded further.

"Look Mr. Gold this place is my life and I'm not just gonna give it up because some big shot decided he's gonna build a strip mall," Ashley finished. "And you can tell him that to," she added as an afterthought. Then turned her back to Marcus, ending the conversation. She heard him sigh, walk away, and close the door behind him.

"You are too nice to that man. If it were me I would have just told him to fuck off," Ashley's bartender stated smartly.

"Jesus I just wish he'd just leave me alone," the brunette sighed taking a seat. "Do me a favor Mel and open up? We're ready."

"No problem."

Ashley headed to the back to talk to her girls before the night began just like she did every night, except Sundays, Ashley's Angels Strip Club wasn't open on Sundays, for holy reasons of course. Respecting God and all that good stuff. It was then that she noticed the crowd of picket signs outside one of her decorated windows. "Shit. It's those Catholic freaks again."

She pulled down the shades to block out the signs that read "strippers are sinners", "whores go to hell" and other things that her girls really didn't need to see. She wouldn't mind the protesters to much if they didn't mess with business. How are good husbands supposed to sneak away from their wives without feeling guilty with those sons-a-bitches crowding her front door step?

"Alright my ladies are you girls ready and everything? Are there any problems?" Ashley asked kindly back stage. There was some general nodding and a few smiles signaling that everything was fine. At least one thing was going right.

"Uhm… Actually…" Spoke to soon.

"What's up Charlie?" Ashley asked a short blonde, one of the first girls she had hired.

"Well we've all noticed something wrong with Jaimie. She hasn't actually said anything but I'm pretty sure we're all worried about her and I thought someone should say something." Ashley looked around noticing that Jaimie wasn't there.

"No worries love. I'll talk to her. Is she in the dressing room?" Charlie nodded. "Okay, the rest of you it's places."

The girls scattered, Ashley approached the dressing room door and knocked on it softly, "Hey Jaimie it's Ashley can we talk for a sec?" There was a few stifled sobs and a bit of shuffling around before Ashley heard the small "yeah" inviting her inside. She opened the door, closing it quietly behind her, and then joined the small raven haired girl sitting on one of the plush couches inside the brightly lit dressing room.

"How's everything going?" No response. Ashley tried another approach. "Hey you know you can talk to me about anything and if you need anything never hesitate to ask you're one of my Angels I'd do anything for you especially if it involves Calix," she said kindly, placing her hand soothingly on Jaimie's back. Smoothly bringing up Jaimie's eight year old son knowing very well that he was the cause of the young girl's worries.

"He doesn't have clothes for school. He doesn't have clothes for school because I spent the last of our money on this week's groceries, and once those are gone I don't know what I'm going to do," Jaimie finally admitted her head hanging low a tissue squeezed tightly in her right hand.

"Done. Clothes for Jaimie. Food in the fridge. It's no problem, I'll take care of it," Ashley removed the dirty tissue and held onto the girls hand securely to prove that she meant it. She felt Jaimie relax and watched her nod, relieved. "Now get on that stage and have a good performance okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Go."

Ashley watched Jaimie leave her mind working furiously to find some extra money somewhere in order to take care of Calix who she loved like a nephew. Oh well she would worry about it later right now it was time to check out the crowds.

Out in the main room things were running well. The place was packed for the first time in a couple weeks, enough to put a smile on Ashley's face. She headed over to the bar to find out how much they'd made tonight no longer worried about where the money for Jaimie would come from. It was then that she noticed a shy girl standing in the corner of her club looking very lost and out of place. Probably a wife looking for her wandering husband, Ashley headed over there preparing herself for a nasty conversation. When she got there however she was stunned at how beautiful the girl actually was. She was taller than Ashley with shoulder length blonde hair and even in the flashing lights of the club you could see that she had dazzling, piercing blue eyes. She was the complete opposite of the normal wives who found themselves in Ashley's Angels, sharp and angular. If she was a wife Ashley couldn't fathom why a husband would want to leave her.

"Hi," Ashley said cautiously, "Can I help you?"

The girl didn't seem to hear her at first as she continued to stare awestruck at the half naked dancers flaunting themselves on the expansive runway stage in the center of the club.

"Okay look," Ashley sighed, "you just point out which one he is and we'll get him out of here and take care of this nice and quietly. No need for a scene or anything, we're sorry for the situation, but the actions of people's spouses are not reflected on this establishment or its employees."

Still no feedback from the blonde.

"Hello?" Ashley snapped her fingers, beginning to get impatient. Finally the girl turned to look at her.

"Actually I was looking for a job."


	2. Chapter 1

**Ashley's Angels**

**Chapter 1**

Spencer was a daddy's girl. A princess, the one's you'd see decked out all in pink and sparkles with the patented "Daddy's Little Girl" bejeweled on their chests. Even though Spencer had ditched the glitter a long time ago her attitude hadn't changed. She mimicked many of the attributes that were stereotypical to her label, including being high-maintenance which was why her current husband, James LeRoy, was not going to cut it.

"I have been nothing but a caring spouse to this woman. I have never struck her, mistreated her, or harmed her in anyway –."

"Are you speaking in the emotional sense James?" Spencer interrupted, "Because the level of neglect that I have faced in this relationship would shock even the most unemotional people."

"How have I neglected you? You have received everything you have ever asked for!" James retorted angrily his face turning a dangerous shade of red. "Anything that you have wanted I have provided."

"Including love? Did you show me you loved me while you were working around the clock non-stop?"

"I only worked so much in order to supply you with the luxurious life you are accustomed to living," the husband replied sadly looking for the woman that he had fallen in love with somewhere within the bitter shell that stood before him.

"Alright I give up with you two," Melanie Shaw interjected loudly her usually cool demeanor cast aside in frustration and aggravation, "you are not supposed to be married I don't need to be a counselor to clearly see that. I have tried and tried with you but no amount of degrees or classes can save this marriage. I suggest that you both get lawyers and commence with a divorce."

"Thank you," Spencer said curtly before wheeling around and storming out of the office leaving James behind a storm brewing in his eyes.

Melanie eyed Mrs. LeRoy cautiously from her spot across the room. Her former client didn't look anything like she usually did. She wasn't dressed in her three piece suit and her hair was down and wild. Then again Melanie probably looked different as well with a glass in her hand and her hair in a tight ponytail. The marriage counselor didn't need an extra job she made plenty of money in her profession but she had been best friends with Ashley since high school and would do anything to help her out. So she worked for half the normal salary and gave up a couple hours of extra sleep, it was worth it. As Ashley's best friend it was like her duty to tell her something was up with this woman. Something that couldn't be good news for anyone, especially the club.

Melanie watched with doubt and suspicion as Ashley led Mrs. LeRoy into the back room of the club.

"So what makes you think you're qualified to be a dancer at my club?"

Spencer let out a little disbelieving scoff, "You need qualifications to be a Go-Go dancer?" she said condescendingly.

"Look you obviously don't want this job to bad or really don't think first impressions are very important," Ashley retorted, "of course there are qualifications to work here. Are you comfortable in your own body? Are you comfortable taking of your clothes in front of people? Are you a good person? Do you have rhythm? There's actually a lot to this profession."

Spencer looked at the brunette incredulously.

"I'll give you an application and if you're serious about this you can come back next weekend with a dance routine and audition on Sunday. It's the only day my dancers don't work their asses off. This is a hard job Mrs-."

"Ms.," Spencer corrected, "and it's Carlin."The blonde's eyes shifted around the room, almost nervously, unable to stay in one place.

"Ms. Carlin. And to be honest right now I don't think you have what it takes," Ashley finished handing the blonde a packet of papers. "Now you're welcome to stay and observe the dancers and have a drink but I have to go back to being a manager. It was nice to meet you."

Ashley turned and walked out of the room without taking a second glance. Spencer's attitude had pretty much ruined her chances of getting a job but Ashley was a pretty big believer in second chances; she'd received enough of them.

Out in the main room the night was pretty much coming to a close. A few drunken stragglers remained staring up at the girls that they could never get in a million years. This was the part of the night Ashley hated. It made her club look like all the other strip joints in LA; dirty and shame filled when it was anything but. She had spent her whole life trying to change the normal person's perspective on the stripping profession, since she herself was persecuted when she was forced to turn to it. Stripping is not "unclean" if done correctly and has saved and protected many women from being hurt. In renaissance Venice, whoring was actually seen as an art and something to be proud of. Ashley believed it was something to be proud of.

"I don't trust her," Mel said disapprovingly, cleaning yet another glass, the curse of being a bartender.

"Well you're a narcissistic cynic who doesn't trust life in general," then Ashley let out a sigh, "but right now, for once, I agree with you."

"I don't like her."

"Me either."

"I wouldn't hire her."

"And I knew we couldn't see eye to eye forever," the brunette finished.

"Wait you're actually considering giving that bitch a job?"

"We need more blonde dancers Mel," Ashley said defeated, moving around to the other side of the bar and standing next to her old friend, "and her bitchiness could also bring the show in a whole new direction, a direction that could bring more clients, and we are in a pretty deep hole, especially with Gold and Thomas breathing down my neck."

Melanie made a disgusted face, "ugh. If you need more blonde dancers than dye my hair blonde and throw my fat ass up there."

"You know I'm right."

"Even if we were completely and irreversibly in the red I wouldn't hire her."

"Yeah well it's not your business, or your life that's up for grabs here," Ashley replied. She gathered her keys and coat and headed towards the door of the club. Melanie saw for the first time the way her best friend's shoulders were slumped and the way her feet dragged as she crossed the floor. She'd never seen Ashley so defeated.

"Hey Davies," she shouted after her, "don't give up!"

"Yeah," Ashley quietly responded, "lock up," and then she opened the door and stepped out into the night. The large metal door slammed unnervingly loudly behind her cutting off the cool air.

Melanie watched her go before turning around quickly to pick up the bar phone and dial an unfamiliar number. She waited as the phone rang three times before someone picked up on the other end.

"Hi, it's Melanie. Look you know I wouldn't normally ask you for anything personally but Ashley needs you and I know that you care about her even if you don't give a rat's ass about me."


End file.
